Rundown (I Dare You to Move)
by geeliarmpithair
Summary: Five years after the world had gone to shit, Daryl had thought that'd be the course for the rest of his miserable life. But it wasn't - he just had to realize he wanted to change. Daryl/Glenn AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Glenn

* * *

"Carl!"

Glenn heard Rick's voice call through the noises of the crowd. He smashed the dull blade of his machete into a skull and turned around. The whole place was filled with dirty smoke. His eyes watered as he scanned the mob of humans and walkers mixed together into a sweaty mess. There were no clear lines of bodies, only faded shapes swaying back and forth in the open field. There was fire everywhere, flames reaching high up to the dark sky in the background.

Glenn swallowed a lump in his throat when he spotted Rick. The guy was on his feet and furiously firing at a head after another, eyes focusing aimlessly. Glenn called his name and Rick turned.

"Where's Carl?" Rick shouted at him from a distance. Glenn, after bringing down another walker, scanned the field once more.

"Can't see him!" he replied. His voice felt weak as he broke into a run, making his way towards the Old House. "He must be inside!"

Rick hollered something at him but he couldn't make anything of it, his heartbeat thumping too loud in his ears. Carl had to be alright. He had to, because Rick was a wreck already and if he lost his mind, Glenn would be left alone losing his own, trying to keep this group alive. He wouldn't allow it.

He went up the front steps two at a time, all while ignoring the growing aches in his body. He opened the door to the house and found Carl with the gun bag hanging from a shoulder, about to step outside. "Glenn, thank God…" a relieved sigh escaped the boy's lips. Glenn ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair as the noises came back, a bit quieter now than earlier. He could actually breathe again. "Dad?"

"He's fine. Fighting the last of the walkers outside." Yeah, Rick was fine; but as he turned around and faced the now calm field, full of rotten bodies, he couldn't relax. The scene he had in front of him was pitiful. The surprise attack had cost them too many of their people. Rick's people. Hell, _Glenn's_ people.

"Come on, Glenn," Rick was suddenly next to him, his gun tucked back to his belt, but he wasn't smiling. In fact, there was nothing showing in those eyes other than exhaustion. "Let's secure this place."

Glenn nodded and obeyed, following Rick towards the gate.


	2. The Signpost

A/N: Ok so here's the first chapter. Please don't mind my grammar and other mistakes, I'm not a native speaker D::

**Chapter 1**

Daryl

* * *

A loud female cry echoed in the forest. Daryl sprinted and recognized two figures, a boy and a girl, and a bunch of those fuckers surrounding them. The snapping of their jaws could be heard all the way to where Daryl was coming from, and he aimed his loaded crossbow towards a biter that was just about to get a hold of the girl's boot. The rotten body fell limp to the ground as Daryl reached it and violently jerked the arrow out of the nasty thing's skull. The boy seemed useful, taking his time to aim at heads and blast them with a little handgun. The girl was lying on the ground, shaking.

"Carl. Where did I put Glenn's knife?" she asked, ignoring Daryl's presence completely as they finally, with harsh breaths, leaned against trees to admire the work they'd done. There were seven walkers lying on the ground. Not snarling anymore.

Daryl eyed the two teenagers. The girl was very lanky and looked starved around the collarbones, the features on her face sharp and that tiny nose stood out. The boy, _'Carl?'_ Daryl pondered in his head, looked way healthier – he had a bit chubby cheeks as though he were a bit younger than the girl, maybe 15? 16? They were both still too young to wander around by themselves, considering this was the end of the world and not a freaking _carnival_.

There was no answer, the boy trying to catch his breath so hard it seemed to hurt. Daryl decided to speak up.

"The hell ya doin' alone in the woods? Cuddlin'?" Still no answer as the girl stood up, staring at him. "Where's yer camp?"

The teenagers glanced at each other, wondering if it would be safe to reveal the location of their place.

"Close. Don't try anything stupid," the girl said as she turned to walk south and wiped some leaves off her pants. Light brown hair swayed from one side to another as she went.

"Sophia," Carl hissed. He clearly seemed to hesitate, and for a reason.

Daryl threw his crossbow over his shoulder. He certainly wasn't a threat and sure as hell didn't want to look like one. "'m lookin' for Rick Grimes. Heard he might be 'round."

The boy stilled at that, nodding at him. "Follow us."

Daryl called for T-Dog who came to him, running and coughing his lungs out. Sophia was hissing to Carl about something that involved the words "knife", "Glenn" and "I'll kill you if you tell him" as they made their way towards a camp and hopefully Rick Grimes, Daryl thought. It didn't take long until they were climbing a tall wall, a gate to a part of a small town.

"This place seems fucked up," Daryl stated out loud more to himself than T-Dog as a female guard holding a rifle helped them up. Seriously, no questions asked from them and they could just enter this camp? And a _female _on watch? _Gotta be shittin me_, Daryl mused.

"Friendly?" the woman asked Carl and the boy nodded, immediately going after Sophia towards the houses. The woman's eyes scanned Daryl's dirt-caked form and she offered her hand. "Andrea."

Daryl wiped his sweaty palm on his pant leg and shook hers. "Daryl. This is my partner Theodore." T-Dog nodded. "Lookin' for Rick Grimes."

The woman put the rifle down, nodding. "Glenn! Keep watch for a second, okay!" Daryl looked over at the almost empty field in between buildings, at a boy cheerfully jogging towards them. As he reached the gate and climbed the stairs, he planted a silly looking cap onto his head, adjusting it for a minute. Behind the visor was a round face smiling at Andrea.

"Found it," the boy said cheerfully and Andrea released an understanding laugh. Found what? The slanted eyes gave away that he was Asian. So this was Glenn. Daryl wondered if he should mention about Glenn's knife that the girl from before had apparently lost but kept his mouth shut as Glenn looked him over. "Who are they?"

"Guests. I'll go show them around for a bit," Andrea said, hopping down from the gate like a freaking ninja. Seriously. What was it with all the Japanese stuff suddenly?

Daryl once more glanced at the Asian kid before letting Andrea lead them to a rather big looking house and upstairs. The floorboards creaked as their heavy boots dropped to the floor. They stopped at a door and Andrea walked shamelessly inside, her blonde curls following close behind.

"Rick. There's somebody here to see you."

Daryl stepped into a cozy looking bedroom. A man with heavy eye bags stood up from a chair behind a wooden desk. His face looked dirty, as if he had just run a marathon in the middle of a sandstorm. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll be okay." With that, Andrea left the room, leaving Rick alone with two strangers. "Welcome to our town. My name is Rick Grimes," the man said, even managing a tentative smile as he held his hand out for Daryl to shake.

"We're from the North Land workin' under Philip Blake, friendly. Name's Daryl."

"I'm his partner Theodore," T-Dog introduced himself and they both shook Rick's hand.

Rick sat back down behind the table and gestured for them to do the same. T-dog collapsed onto the bed but Daryl remained where he stood in the middle of the room, wanting to take care of stuff quickly because he had things to do and this job was a pain in the ass. Before Rick managed to ask, Daryl beat him to it and opened his mouth.

"We came to warn about a group of fellas that escaped the North Land a few weeks ago. They're heavily armed," Daryl ducked his head down to avoid the intense stare, "and former soldiers. They might want some supplies while passing by, maybe women… Just so you know. To keep that woman off watch."

Rick was about to ask something, his face expressing utter confusion, as the floorboards creaked again and someone stepped into the room. The Asian kid leaned against the wall, taking his cap off. "Carl was out in the wild again. With Sophia."

It was Rick's turn to press his face down. "They hurt?"

"No. These men saved them from a herd of walkers," Glenn said, face lighting up, gesturing at Daryl and T-Dog.

"Stupid kid… Gotta teach him a lesson," Rick mumbled under his breath, then looked up at his dumbfounded guests. "Thank you. Daryl and Theodore. I owe you one."

"The kid did well though," Daryl cut in, feeling awkward just standing there and moving to one side of the room, T-Dog's side. "Good at defendin' 'imself. Takin' his time to aim. The boy."

"Yeah, Carl is…" Rick trailed off and seemed to focus again. "You were talking about the group. Is that true? Think we could stand a chance against them?"

"How many in your group? And how many able, trained?" T-Dog spoke and looked worried, eyebrows knotting into a frown. Daryl knew why. The Asian kid still hadn't left, only adjusted the cap on his head and leaned further against the wall, listening intently.

"Me, Glenn… One old man, Dale. Three trained, four who don't know shit about guns and two of them women. A couple recovering from a former attack." Rick tried to ease his frown by rubbing at his temples with his calloused fingers. "Kids. One toddler."

T-Dog exchanged concerned glances with him. Daryl noted Glenn looking between them, studying their reactions. He tried to regain his poker face and stood tall. "Yeah. You can do it. Dunno when they're comin' but guess you got the time to recover."

"Good. Good, thank you for the information. We appreciate it," Rick stated, nodding his head repeatedly. "Glenn?"

The Asian kid stood straight immediately at Rick's command, "Yes?"

"We should provide shelter for Daryl and Theodore for the night. Could you show them to their room?"

Glenn obeyed, leading them outside with quick and silent steps.

* * *

T-Dog had persuaded him into staying the night. They needed their rest, that was true, but now that they were so close to finishing this job? Daryl had other things to deal with. Things like his dick racist brother who couldn't keep his mouth shut and got into trouble for it, and finding him. And he also had a couple of days' jerking off to do, so. A lot of things to deal with.

The evening passed with T-Dog slacking on the couch, eventually passing out late at night. The past two days had been exhausting to Daryl as well, but as much as he would've liked lying back onto the narrow bed in the room, he didn't feel like sleeping in there together with a goddamn nigger. T-Dog was okay, quiet enough but too slow to keep up with him.

However, right now, the nigger was snoring so loud Daryl couldn't even hear his own thoughts here. He needed to get out. Grabbing his crossbow he stomped out to the field that was now dark and there were people gathered laughing and talking in the middle of it around a huge fire. He ignored that bunch of people, irritated, because that was just so fake and stupid he couldn't handle it.

After sneaking past the female guard out into the woods, he almost made it to reach into his pants with cold hands, as he was interrupted by a rustle in the bush. He immediately grabbed his crossbow tighter.

The Asian kid emerged from behind a tree, dark circles around his eyes. "Can't sleep?" the kid asked. Daryl grunted, annoyed, because it was none of anyone's business. And an interruption wasn't very welcome either. "Me neither."

"Ain't gon' sleep with a nigger," Daryl mumbled, shouldering his crossbow and leaning hard against a tree. The kid gave a bright chuckle, loosely crossing his arms against his chest.

"So you come out here to serve as walker bait?" Daryl remained silent. No point in talking to a slant eyed idiot. "No offense, but when an army of biters shows up, you'll be doomed. They just took down one third of our people."

Daryl was silent for a while, dumbfounded, before correcting the last sentence because that was just a bit too optimistic for this world they lived in right now. "Your people? There ain't no someone's people anymore. Individuals are on their own now."

"That's what I figured when I was watching you and your partner. You don't think we'll survive the attack?" The kid's face was serious, mouth pressed into a tight line as Daryl looked up.

"The North Land's breakin' apart already, that's what I meant. Ya live in a safety box or somethin', China?"

"I'm Korean," the kid mumbled, standing up straighter to Daryl's surprise.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman."

For a second, Glenn looked disappointed but the corners of his lips quirked up a bit. "Thanks, anyway. For helping Sophia and Carl today."

There was an awkward silence, Daryl scratching his nose and wondering what the fuck to say about that. Then he came up with the most natural of things. "Figured you guys were a bunch of hopeless faggots, so that's why."

The kid didn't seem to mind Daryl's negative asshole attitude, because he led him back to camp and to his people, and Daryl couldn't bring himself to stop it.

_Hell_, he didn't even _think_ about masturbating all night.


	3. Wandering, Blind

A/N: Chapter 2. Comments are loved!

**Chapter 2**

Daryl

* * *

Daryl woke up with a jerk.

"_Now. Which one a' ya lil' strips stuck yer pretty nose in my candy stash?"_

He panicked and shot up from the floor he had passed out on. He could recognize that voice anywhere.

_Merle._

"_Step out, prick. No need to blush."_

Daryl stormed out of the house. He pushed the porch door open and it made a noise as it slammed against the wooden wall of the house. People lined up in front of the porch turned to look at him.

Faceless people. Their expressions were a blur to him.

Pure daylight blinded his eyesight, but he could make out his brother's features too well behind the faceless crowd. They were all looking at him. "Merle."

His brother gasped. There was a long silence until he opened that filthy mouth of his. "Ya chained my baby brother here with ya?" The crowd remained silent, still staring at Daryl. "Ya jailed my dear lil' brother to stay with ya faggots? Is that what happened here, huh?"

"Merle, it's not –" Daryl tried to go to his brother but faceless creatures held him by both arms. Merle let out a guffaw, holding his tummy. It lasted for an eternity, Merle just laughing uncontrollably. He was still struggling for air as he grabbed one of the faceless figures and made it view his twisted expression.

"Was it you who turned my lil' Darlena into a fag?" Merle demanded, shaking the little figure, seemingly a child, in his grip. "I'mma beat the hell outta ya."

Daryl tried to break free from the grip of the shapes holding him steady as the first blow landed on the child's face.

"Ya the one who stole my candy?"

Blow after blow, and Daryl could do nothing but scream as his brother laughed, louder and louder until his ears were ringing.

Daryl screamed Merle's name, head throbbing hard against his scalp. He tossed against the hands touching him, until he noticed it was peaceful. There was an actual face, that wasn't his brother's, coming to his view.

"Daryl."

He tried to catch his breath. His heart was beating against his ribcage with a tight rhythm. He recognized a bright ceiling and T-Dog's features, looking down at him.

"Another dream?" T-Dog asked, letting go of his arms. Daryl sighed, feeling a tear of sweat slide down his temple as he sat up.

"A nightmare."

"Not cool, bro. But I guess we all have 'em." Daryl shivered as T-Dog turned to walk towards the door of the room. "Glenn's waiting for you outside." With that, his partner left the room.

"What?" Daryl mumbled to himself, dumbfounded. Right, they were still completing the Governor's job. And had spent a night in a barricaded town lacking any decent people.

Turned out Daryl had, as sober as he claimed to have been the night before, promised to go on a supply run for these people. In exchange for a proper bed for the night.

He packed his stuff and wiped his face with a dirty rag before heading outside.

* * *

Fuck, if the kid wasn't talkative. Glenn had just finished saying an hour long goodbye to a dozen of people like ten fucking minutes ago and here he went on again.

"So… you seemed to enjoy yourself last night?"

If it wasn't for the stupid green Hyundai and the uselessly fast speed of it, which actually would be pretty damn practical at times, Daryl would've thrown himself out of the car right there and then. "They don't store a lot of booze 'round the North Land. 'cept for the expensive shit at the pub." Glenn glanced at him from the driver's seat, and why the heck wasn't Daryl allowed to drive?, before returning his gaze to the road. Daryl sighed of relief because well, the kid was suicidal to say the least. Murderous, too, in case the apocalypse had made him insane.

"How's it like living in there? They say it's better than what many people have been used to, recently. That people actually have jobs, and stuff," the kid rambled on casually, as if this whole mess of the mankind never existed. Daryl growled. "I could get used to it. Having people around, I mean. It's useful."

"Dunno," Daryl begun and swallowed a lump in his throat. Ugh, social situations. "…about that. Haven't lived there for long. Used to live in the woods. Fend for myself."

"Why did you move, then?" The question came out so innocent and as if the kid cared that Daryl had to scrunch his face bitterly.

"Brother. Lost him a while ago, that sumbitch took off while I was sleepin'."

"I'm sorry," Glenn managed and cleared his throat. There was a silence as the kid drove, nearer the city this time. "Look, if you just told me what he looks like, we could –"

"I doubt ya wanna do that," Daryl interrupted the polite offer of help and turned his head to look towards the growing buildings ahead. "We're here. Let's do this shit."

They parked the car next to some shopping mall and hopped out to the streets, Glenn taking the lead. Daryl held his bow close in case some soil-faced creep decided to jump at them. He focused on the alleys around them. They were all empty. He thought cities were supposed to bustle of walkers, so what the hell had happened that made the old Atlanta so fatally silent? Had he missed something remarkable? Maybe the fuckers had starved until their final snarl and died.

"Well this place seems more deserted than China after an apocalypse," Daryl broke the tension between them and earned a glare from Glenn over his shoulder. "Think things ain't like this in Shanghai or wherever ya came from? 'cause I sure as hell could bet that they have a solution to all of this, jus' won't tell us, those bastards."

"Will you please shut up?"

Daryl smirked and stared at Glenn's steady backside as they walked. "So what did you guys need back at the camp? We can split up and get back to the car when we're done."

Glenn seemed to be thinking. Daryl eyed the lanky shoulders under a black t-shirt, so thin that he wondered if the group had enough to eat. An old baseball bat was held in the kid's firm grip, ready to strike when a rotten memento of a human being wandered too close. The loyal cap stayed on as Glenn's head hung low. Daryl didn't know what to think about that. People were like this nowadays. They wore these weird masks on their faces, those that lied that everything was okay, that the people behind them did just fine. That didn't mean they were. And it certainly wasn't right, Daryl thought.

When the kid finally opened his mouth, turning around, an expression of pure surprise spread to Daryl's face. "You think I can trust you that much, dumbass? No. We need food, mostly. And you're coming with me. The girls need their tampons and I need you to pick the brand, Dick."

Everything was easier after that. Daryl found himself amazed by the way the kid moved in the city, all quiet and quick on his feet when any walkers did appear. Glenn seemed to avoid any encounters. And he found stuff. Knew where everything would be, and it had been _five fucking years_ and there still was something left somewhere if you knew where to look from.

There was a lingering hope of finding Merle in the city. He looked out for his brother's unmistakable figure. Who knew if the haywire had gone off to update his drug stash, now that there were no cops to arrest him for having it and it was free for anyone to take? Not that Merle had ever paid for it before the end of the world. That sneaky son of a bitch.

"Shit."

Daryl was yanked from his thoughts back to reality by Glenn's hand on his arm. He felt something smelly wrap around his neck and hissed. How the hell had this happened? Daryl Dixon didn't let his guard down. He struggled for a while, hearing only snarling and snapping teeth as the walker on his back just _wouldn't let go_.

He turned. Twisted. Bowed, anything to avoid getting bit.

_Come on, lil' brother. Don't be such a pussy._

He closed his eyes and stumbled backwards.

_Kick off 'em damn high heels and fight, Darlena._

Daryl fell, crushing that ugly motherfucker under his body and breathed. Eventually the snarling stopped. He opened his eyes and spotted Glenn hovering over him, pulling out a knife from the walker's skull.

"We need to go."

Daryl didn't need to be told twice. They sprinted all the way to the car, Glenn's backpack heavy of supplies. Panting, Glenn started the car, needing so bad to get out of there.

Once on the road again, Glenn slowed down and spoke. "What were you doing out there? Daydreaming?"

Daryl just breathed, shocked. He had never been _that_ close to dying. He had heard Merle's rasped voice crystal clear in his head. As if the filthy man had been there himself.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to zombies, no matter how many brains I smash," Glenn mumbled, visibly shivering, and they were silent for the rest of the way.

* * *

The Governor's job was done and he could go back to whatever the hell he wanted to do. First he went to the pub, Crippling Biter they called it, ordered a beer and sat in the corner for what felt like an eternity. Looked out for his brother as usual. They said many crossed the North Land every once in a while, and those who were lost but could offer something, stayed. Merle certainly had something to offer. He always came up with a way that made it sound like he was something invaluable. But Daryl couldn't know if Merle was lost, because if he was, he wasn't one to admit it. Probably wouldn't stay. But Daryl still kept looking every night. The Governor did, for him, as well.

Daryl sighed and noted that the blonde girl in the opposite corner of the pub was lost. Had been for weeks, all the time Daryl's been in the rebuilt city. Probably even longer. She had this aura of emptiness to her, just staring at her mug of beer in front of her with half lidded eyes. Now she was one, Daryl thought, who looked like a person was supposed to, in this kind of situation. She didn't hide it like many did. But maybe not all had lost everyone and had someone to pretend for. But Daryl knew this girl had lost all.

He stood and left the pub.

Daryl dragged his old, worn out body into the shithole that was his "apartment" in the Governor's building. He dropped to the sofa and jerked himself off with lazy tugs, only to think afterwards that at least he had his hand.

No one to pretend for.


	4. Take What's Mine

**Chapter 3**

Daryl

* * *

"You've done your job well, Daryl. Like a loyal soldier should," Philip stated calmly from behind his table, his old features smiling gently.

"Thank you, Governor," Daryl mumbled under his breath, bowing his head slightly. There was nothing that could make up all the effort the Governor put into looking for his brother. He just knew it. Now, he wasn't a freaking detective or anything. He just had spied a bit. Spent his time watching the ruler of the North Land. Time was a killer these days.

"Just Philip to you, son." The Governor stood up and walked around the table to grab a bottle of whiskey from on top of the bookshelf against the wall. "You know, I want to offer all the good things to my people. They deserve something that keeps them going in the middle of everything. I want to be reliable and strong to them." Motioning for Daryl to relax in his chair, Philip walked back behind the table and sat. Daryl followed him with attentive eyes. "A strong leader needs a great right-hand man."

Daryl could sense what was coming next and hesitated as he accepted the offered half full glass of whiskey. "Yes, reliability is a good feature," he agreed as he looked into the Governor's smiling eyes.

"Your brother, he…" Philip started and shook his head. "I don't know why he left you, but when we find him, there could be a reason for you to stay here even if he leaves."

Daryl swallowed. Was Philip implying that Merle didn't care about his own brother? "Merle was high," was all he managed out before there was a loud knock on the door and some asshole stormed in. Daryl glared, mainly because he didn't feel good about the whole situation.

"Martinez! About time you showed up," Philip welcomed the guy and Daryl glared harder.

"Governor, I think we got ourselves a spy," the Hispanic looking man said as there was a figure dragged behind him in a firm grip. The boy's head was covered with a black bag of some kind as he stumbled into the room, all lanky shoulders and uncoordinated steps. Daryl finished his whiskey and stood to leave but was interrupted by Philip's haunting words.

"Daryl, thank you for your time. Think about it."

Daryl snorted as he shut the door. As if anybody knew a thing about him and Merle.

They had always been together. Yes, there had been all the fights and Merle coming and going as he wanted, leaving Daryl alone with their pa for days. But Daryl had grown to the habit of leaving as well and when he got back, Merle would be waiting for him, silently treating his wounds. The way Merle stroked his sweaty hair and held him was almost gentle… Daryl missed it. He knew his brother hadn't left him.

No person, no matter how high in precedence, could claim otherwise. It made him angry that some piece of shit governor suggested so clearly that his brother didn't care and he couldn't do a damned thing about it. After all, the asshole did provide him shelter and food and at least pretended to be searching. But what Philip wanted in exchange to that…

It was too much. There was no way could Daryl actually go as low as crawl in the grass roots taking orders from a man about his age and stand behind those filthy words and actions in front of the whole crowd of people that believed every lie.

Not that he cared about the people, though.

Daryl stepped into the cozy light of Crippling Biter and took in the sight before his tired eyes. The whole town seemed to have decided that getting wasted tonight was the right call. Well, shit. Might as well, he mused as he stared at a bunch of guys arguing loudly in the middle of the pub, holding their drinks high as nasty slurs escaped their mouths. He squeezed through the thick mob and recognized the old man sitting at the bar. The gray hair was a mess that fit the worn out flannel shirt and dark pants. The lack of his right leg made him easily identifiable. This town, city, whatever it was… It was the right place to a man who was missing limbs.

"Hershel," Daryl grunted as he angrily hushed a pitiful looking boy off the chair next to the old man's. He sat his ass down and turned to face Hershel with his body. Hershel looked up from his bottle of beer. "Seen Merle 'round?"

"I'm sorry, son. No sign of a rebel with the name Dixon," Hershel shook his head pointing towards the center of the pub, "Unless you can tell by one of their faces. All of the town's troublemakers seem to be out here to kill some time tonight."

Daryl glanced over his shoulder. The group of hillbillies was loud indeed. It reminded him of good old times, all of it before the apocalypse. Him and Merle in the bar. Merle's slurring hollers. Fisticuffs late into the night with fellow boozers. Fights with Merle. He remembered it all, everything coming back to his mind in a restless and painful flow. But there was no sign of Merle, just as the old man had put it.

The drunkards' arguing was intense. Slurs and swears were passed between beer covered tables and it would've been downright fatally dangerous if guns or other weapons were included. Daryl turned his burning face back to Hershel, sighing heavily.

"What they quarrelin' 'bout?"

"There's a rumor," Hershel began, making Daryl slightly lean forward in anticipation. "Some say the Governor's been lying to us. One of the hunters died in the darker part of the North Land last night. A few biters broke in. Some think the Runners are still a threat."

Daryl thought on it for a second. Could this have something to do with the job he and T-Dog had been engaged with…? Maybe the Runners knew and wanted revenge. Or maybe they only wanted revenge for the former incidents. Blew a hole to the fence of the North Land. Daryl didn't exactly know what had happened between the Governor and the group of people that escaped, wasn't entirely sure. He didn't know if he wanted to hold that knowledge.

"An' what do the others think?" he questioned, finding his own mind, despite everything, pretty intent to understand what's going on.

"That the Runners are too smart to bother. They think someone else did it. Maybe someone holds yet another grudge against the Governor," Hershel suggested, his old features looking tired as hell under the dim light of the pub. Daryl pondered on it. Maybe… Merle.

His thoughts were interrupted when Hershel's body bumped against his. He swayed from the chair but managed to keep his balance, holding Hershel's weight up so that the one-legged grandpa wouldn't fall. "Hey, ole man, maybe ya should quit it with the drinkin' –" His voice was cut off as Hershel stood up on his own and Daryl was awakened to the noise of the pub. It was louder. He could hear glass shattering somewhere and realized the old man wasn't actually drunk but the giant form of one of the rednecks had fallen on him.

"What the hell man?!" Daryl shot at the guy who was struggling to get up from the pub floor. He looked around and then saw it – the heated argument had turned into an actual bar fight. People were standing on the tables and chairs and the ones not participating in the fight moved either out of the pub or behind the bar. "Fuckin'…" he mumbled under his breath as he reached for his knife from his belt, about to solve the situation and what the fuck, it _wasn't there_. Realization struck him and he was pretty fucking sure–

"Daryl!" Daryl looked to see that T-Dog had called his name from a few meters away, trying to get past the crowd. Daryl extended his arm and somehow, T-Dog made it to where Daryl and Hershel were standing and began shouting like it was the last thing he would do. "Hershel, Milton asked me to get you! Let's get the fuck outta here before any of them turns –"

"Hershel? Hershel Greene?" came the female voice from behind Daryl and he turned sharply, able to tell that Hershel and T-Dog hadn't missed those words either.

It struck him like a bitch. Because in front of him, there stood the thin blonde female from before, back from one of the camps that they had informed about the possible threat. The Runners.

The bitch didn't even seem to notice Daryl or T-Dog, though. She ran right past them, to tangle her arms around Hershel's thick neck as the old man stared in wonder. What was the bitch's name again?

"Andrea, you're alive!"

Then there was the sickeningly sappy reunion of two people that used to know each other a long time ago and all the happiness and gross reassurances right there in the middle of a literal fistfight.

"Come on Hershel, we _need_ to go!" Daryl reminded nervously and got the face of the blonde woman to turn towards him, her eyebrows set into a tight frown.

"I remember you. You're the Dixon!" she exclaimed and Daryl couldn't believe it, because seriously, these people were unbelievable. Their first thought wasn't to escape this hell of a boxing ring, but to stay in it for a small talk? "You fuckin' snake, we gotta talk," Andrea gritted out bitterly and took a confident step towards him.

"Fine, let's just get the hell outta here first!"

After they finally made it out of the pub, helping Hershel by practically carrying him by the armpits, there was a heck of another shitstorm entirely coming Daryl's way.

The bitch was whining about stuff like how _freaking hospitable their town was_ and _Dixon better be showing her, ass first, where Glenn was or his asscrack was gonna get kicked - hard_. Daryl rolled his eyes at that, _as if_.

"Glenn? The Chinaman?" he made sure because he remembered those lanky shoulders and the stupid hat.

He agreed to show Andrea the way because she wasn't the only one who wanted to find Glenn. Daryl had business to take care of.

* * *

"Fine, but once you're done with him, we're free to go," Andrea agreed hesitantly and Daryl motioned for her to wait outside the building. He walked the familiar way to the Governor's door, knocked and pushed in. The sight before him wasn't what he had expected, though.

The Governor looked up at him, wearing that same smile on his face as before. And there was the kid, sitting in front of the Governor's table, exactly on the spot that Daryl had been sitting way too many times. The kid's head was turned towards him, confusion written all over that round face. He wasn't tied to the chair. Looked unharmed. Almost happy, so different from when Daryl had seen him a while ago with the black bag over his head.

"You," Glenn stated, not really surprised. Dumbfounded, mostly. The Governor looked between the two of them and Daryl couldn't help but shift awkwardly.

"You know each other?" Philip asked after a short, silent while. The kid nodded and Daryl did the same after a while of hesitating. Philip nodded and leaned heavily back in his chair. "We just finished a discussion. Did you want to talk about something, Daryl?"

Daryl shifted again. "Not really. Just gettin' the kid." The Asian stared at him questioningly. "Come on, Slant Eyes. Yer friend's waitin'."

Philip laughed as Daryl held the door open for the kid and they exited the room.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Daryl pushed the oblivious kid against the empty hallway wall, his forearm barely giving the kid a chance to breathe. He held them like that for a while, just staring and realizing that it wasn't just fear that he saw in those eyes. Actually, the most of what there was in them was uncertainty. Despite the fact that he didn't really want to spook the poor kid more - Glenn had probably had his fair share of that for today - he couldn't ease the harsh edge in his voice.

"Ya got somethin' that belongs to me."

Glenn frowned for a second, looking straight into his eyes with his dark ones.

"I helped you the other day –"

"I know that."

"Look, I didn't mean to keep it. It was an accident, I lost my own knife –"

"I fuckin' know that too," Daryl growled, almost amused but the tension… That, he hadn't prepared for. He needed to get out, and he almost took off without his knife but then dug his fingers to the kid's belt and searched for a second with quick movements, finding it. He yanked the knife out of the holster, feeling its familiar pattern, fingering it, satisfied. "'m takin' this." Then, without another look at the kid, he jogged out of the building.

He could feel the fucker staring after him.

_Staring._


	5. Glazed Look

A/N: Chapter 4! Thank you to anyone following and/or favoriting this story. (:

**Chapter 4**

Daryl

* * *

It was a disaster.

A hunting trip seriously gone wrong.

He had just aimed his bow at a tiny, and very much lonely, _bambi_ licking its former wounds when a distant screech pierced the air and the little creature was startled into a run deeper into the woods. There went yet another wounded meal, struggling to escape whatever was chasing it. Would definitely end up breaking a leg or two, suffering through a slow death when Daryl's bow could've made a clean kill.

The screeching didn't stop, though. Daryl turned his head towards the sound and wondered if people would ever stop getting themselves into trouble. He broke into a run, calculating his chances of getting to the girl before it was too late. The female screams came from pretty far away, and Daryl could tell by them that the Damsel in Distress wasn't running from humans – or tortured. Just pretty shaken. Chances of surviving increased by many because of that point.

Daryl panted hard. If there were only a couple of biters, he could easily save the day. If there was a shitload of them, maybe. But if a shitload of them was closing in on _and_ surrounding the girl, no. He was no Good Samaritan – Daryl drew a fine line in between bravery and self destruction.

He came to a quick stop when he saw her. And _one_. _goddamn_. _walker_. Which was like _ten meters_ away from her and she was still _on her fucking feet_. Running.

"Shut up, lady! 'less yer plannin' on attractin' the whole population after ya," he hollered throwing his crossbow back so that it hung from his shoulder and switching to the knife. Miraculously, the girl did shut that pretty mouth of hers and stared, tears in her eyes, as Daryl stormed past her and easily got rid of that annoying bastard at her heels. He made an effortless strike through the male geek's rotten eye socket, twisted the knife and the body fell limp to the ground. "That's better."

Daryl breathed and looked at the lifeless thing lying on the ground. He then lifted his gaze to the girl, noting that she was actually a grown woman. Maybe close to her thirties? What girly shrieks she possessed.

"Please," the woman pleaded. Her starved arm reached out. She was wearing a dark and too big windbreak with ripped-off sleeves (even if no sleeves, hell, it was a hundred-degree summer day, for God's sake), a pair of those girly denim shorts you saw in fashion magazines and no shoes at all. She almost looked like a zombie herself, with grey dirt plastered skin and all, if it weren't for the clothes. Daryl tilted his head, confused. "_Please._"

"What d'ya want?" Daryl jerked back in surprise when the woman stumbled towards him. She reached and managed to get a hold of his sweaty shirt. Her face was kind of pretty, sharp features lined by short light brown hair. Green eyes looked up at him pleadingly like an animal's that was begging to die after a bad, messy shot. And she was shivering. Afraid for her life.

"Please! I can give you anything," the woman cried. She stumbled some more as Daryl took a few horrified steps back, because she was pretty much clinging to his neck now and he was starting to feel awkward, to say the least. "You can have my body. Please, just take me somewhere safe!"

Daryl still jumped back and tried to get a hold of those thin arms. He managed to catch them in a death grip and extracted her hands from his neck – shit, there'd be bruises.

"Look, there's no need – "

"Please!"

"Just- will ya please calm-"

"What's going on here?"

"-down."

The woman's teary face turned towards the side and Daryl slowly gazed in the same direction.

There stood no other person than the chink from Rick Grimes' town. With a disgusted expression on his sweaty face.

Daryl looked back at the woman, her wet eyes, their position together, arms a clingy mess and chests pressed against each other. Then it clicked.

"This ain't what it looks like…" He gave one final shove which sent the woman stumbling back onto her butt, finally getting her off him. He looked back up at Glenn who had a serious frown settled so hard on his face that Daryl thought it would never ease. And the cap… There was no cap. The lack of it made the kid look a bit older than the first time Daryl had met him. And the suspecting eyes. Oh.

"…Right," Glenn mumbled, looking him straight in the eyes with a judging expression on his face. "Who is she?"

"Never really had the chance to ask. Had her stickin' to my torso the second I killed one fucker!" Daryl rubbed the spot on the back of his neck where the woman's bony fingers had bruised him. He looked down at the whimpering woman. "Wanna take care a' her? Take a puppy home?"

"The North Land's closer," Glenn reasoned and walked past him. Wow, the kid was smart. Tried to make Daryl the one responsible of her? That, Daryl was not going to allow.

"Savin' her ain't enough?"

"I wasn't telling you to take her," Glenn called, helping the confused lady up to her own feet with careful movements. "I'm doing it. Got things to take care of in there."

"Excuse me, China?" Daryl exclaimed loudly when Glenn and the woman started walking, headed towards the North Land if not a bit more to the east. Shit, they'd walk right past the place. "What's yer business in there?"

"That's none of your concern," Glenn said, looking back at him over his shoulder and giving a small smile. "And we're taking the road. You coming with?"

Daryl blinked and sighed in frustration. This kid was getting on his nerves. First the interruption in the woods when Daryl was about to get off, then the knife, now this. And next Glenn was going to make him listen to the friendly conversation he was about to have with the woman that included asking names and what had happened and deep apologies and assurances about how everything was going to be just fine.

Daryl followed them though, crossbow at the ready, and listened to that conversation. And the _weeping_. He couldn't come up with a rational explanation to actually _why_ he did it, as he stared at Glenn's lean and sweet, sweet ass.

Those pants were a tight fit.

* * *

Glenn kept coming. Almost every time Daryl left his bunk, Glenn was there. Every time he left to do something for the Governor, Glenn was there. The chink stared at him from the other end of the Governor's hallway with slim eyes and a slightly open mouth, unsure hands in his pant pockets, and there was still no cap. What was the point of just standing there outside the Governor's office and not going in?

Daryl could swear the kid was stalking him.

Glenn only seemed to show up in daylight, though. Obeyed the "golden rules of survival in the middle of a zombie apocalypse"? But why did he come at all? Had Rick Grimes' little town gone down in an attack?

Their arrival to the town of the North Land had been… hectic? The Governor himself had basically dragged Glenn and the woman into his office, ordering for Daryl to follow them suit. The people on the main street had stared with mouths wide open and curious to the point of pissing their pants as they had walked inside.

Turned out the woman had something to do with the Runners. She had been a victim of theirs or something like that. As if Daryl cared. But Philip had wanted to know everything. The interrogation had lasted for so long it had gotten dark and only that was when the poor lady got some proper clothes, food and sleep. She did look exhausted, even to Daryl's eyes.

Glenn had showed up in the pub that night with a glass of beer in front of him. Had mumbled about stuff like how fucked up this whole system was and didn't get to leave before it was dark, and when Hershel had asked him what was wrong, the kid had mumbled some more. Daryl caught a whine about how the chink "hadn't known Daryl was like this". Like what? Fuck it.

Daryl didn't really care what other people thought. He just wanted to find the only person that gave two shits about him.

So he kept looking.

* * *

People didn't grab Daryl's forearm every day on the streets of the North Land, so when that did happen, Daryl was sincerely dumbstruck and barely made it to stop himself from stabbing the poor, clueless person to the head with his knife. He calmed his racing heart and reminded himself of the fact that there were no zombies on these streets. This was no zombie.

It was a girl. The girl was still holding onto his arm with a firm grip when Daryl looked downwards and took in the features of the Blondie that often sat in the corner of Crippling Biter. Her hair fell beautifully down her shoulders as she stared at him with her big blue eyes. She didn't look scared like many would've after someone had just almost stuck a sharp object into their brain. All emotion was gone from her face.

"What?" Daryl asked harshly, because he hadn't signed for this, to participate in a staring contest when he had stepped out of the Governor's building today.

"Help me," the girl breathed out softly, and Daryl wasn't entirely sure, but he could swear he saw a glimpse of emotion flash in those eyes…

"Help ya with what, lady?" he asked, easing his tone a bit, because hell. The girl was opening up a bit. She grabbed his shoulder tightly and leaned in, whispering her following words in a tone way too sweet.

"Help me find my sister."

Daryl felt something clench in his chest. The girl had lost her sister.

She quickly took a step backwards but the hand was still on his forearm. Her hair swayed with the movement, and this was probably the most Daryl had seen the girl move in like _forever_ and it made hope bubble in the bottom of Daryl's stomach. Even though there was only a very little amount of it.

"Ya got a picture a' her or somethin'? Would surely make things easier."

Her eyes widened at that and after her slight state of shock, she dug into her breast pocket and pulled out a small, wallet sized, photo of her.

Daryl snatched the held out picture from her grip and stared. He couldn't believe his eyes. He looked up at the girl, then back at the piece of paper in his hand, and up again. He'd never believe it and he was sure the girl wouldn't either.

He stared into the girl's big, blue eyes and now, he could name the emotion because it burned him, glowing out of her stare so pure and full.

Desperation.

"I'll bring yer sis back."

The girl closed her eyes, long blonde lashes fluttering in the air. Daryl once more glanced at the picture of Andrea before handing it back to the wobbling girl.


	6. Of Bigwigs, Hicks and Mestizos

A/N: So I changed the title of the story, because the current one describes it so much better IMO.

Also, this chapter took a bit longer to write, because it was kind of difficult and I had no idea how to deal with Daryl being the way he is in this one D: And I know this is slow with Daryl/Glenn but it's getting there eventually! I just want to build this enough because there are more characters that are just as interesting to me out there and it's not just about Daryl and Glenn, but about how their relationship grows with these events and people pushing them together.

Feedback is much appreciated!

**Chapter 5**

Glenn

* * *

Glenn shifted in his chair, damp hands clasped tightly together on his lap.

Shitshitshitshit. Fuck. And shit. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Mom wouldn't approve. Dad wouldn't approve. _Rick_ so _totally_ would _not _approve of _this_. And Glenn himself was so frightened he nearly pissed his pants every time he talked to the Governor. His backpack was lying around by the door.

What would Rick have done in a situation like this?

Rick was a man of justice. No matter what, he'd try to make everything right. No, he would make everything right. He always did.

Until recently. Rick's been out of it, to say the least. He was in no condition to lead a group, not to mention keep one alive. But it was the apocalypse. There was no choice, because their still very amateur of a group didn't consist of many able born-to-be leaders.

So Glenn clung to the good memories instead. When Rick was still very sane, had his wife, hell, had Shane… Rick's done good things. Rick's done bad things. Now he did basically nothing because he didn't know how to. Glenn would know after all these years… and he clung to the good things. Tried to remember how to do good.

Glenn tried. So hard.

"What you got?"

Glenn swallowed. He didn't really know what to say. That everything was alright? Sounded too suspicious. The Governor leaned slightly forward in his seat to observe his face in the dim light of the room.

"I haven't seen anything yet," Glenn said, tried to sound confident under two pairs of critical eyes. "Nothing on my way from the east either."

"Yeah, I didn't think they'd get there this soon," the Governor agreed silently. "Milton here, my advisor, he's working hard for the cure. We really want this to work." Milton nodded, his stupid round glasses falling down his nose a bit. The man didn't look like he was the survivor type. Had probably stuck with the Governor for a while to stay alive.

"Research is proceeding pretty slowly but without the proper equipment… Still, we're closer every day. There has to be some way science can explain all that's happening," Milton explained with a boring and unsure voice, Glenn could tell. He just stared like an animal that had no idea about what the hell was going on.

"What we're trying to say is that we need your help," the Governor began gently, "so that we can help you and your camp. We can't afford any mistakes. Once all this is over and you do your job well, your camp can move here. We wanna figure this out together, right?"

Glenn still stared skeptically. And then, he was about to open his mouth and ask what it was that the Runners were so upset about, but there was a muted thump sounding from the hallway. He flinched, shutting up immediately.

"I just wanna make it clear that we don't want any trouble. Understand?" the Governor confirmed and Glenn managed a frozen nod before stumbling up from the chair. He gave one last nervous and very awkward wave to the two men in the room before he opened the door, closed it quickly behind and almost literally ran into a roadblock.

He glanced hurriedly up and scanned two bodies from head to toe in front of him. Both guys, frozen in place stared back, surprised, and Glenn's eyebrows shot up in recognition. The judging eyes belonged to the guy that'd been basically haunting his way into Glenn's life and mind: Daryl, the idiot who had led him to this tricky situation in the first place. Glenn took a step backwards, taking in the awkward position the men were in. Daryl had pinned another one of the Governor's henchmen to the wall with a thick, muscle-filled forearm to the neck. Daryl's now longish hair fell lightly to his cheeks, partially covering the bright blue eyes and the familiar stubble seemed to have been cut recently. The guy against the wall seemed slightly sweaty, his skin gleaming under the poor light of the hallway. Didn't look scared.

Daryl tilted his head and stared for a while longer, his dirty hair a slight mess. The crossbow was squeezed in the tight grip of his other hand, as usual. "The fuck ya want?" he spat at Glenn and pushed himself off the Hispanic guy and the wall. Glenn recoiled a bit more at that. "We ain't done yet," the redneck added, now turning his bitter expression towards the Hispanic guy again. After glaring for an unnecessarily long moment, he brushed past Glenn into the Governor's office.

Glenn flinched at the loud slam of the door. He then caught the Hispanic guy rubbing at the perfect skin of his neck and smirking. Quite handsome.

Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled out of the hallway. He had definitely had enough of bigwigs and hicks and mestizos for the day.

Although one certain redneck was way too attractive for Glenn to want him gone. Not that Glenn wanted to admit that, of course. After all that Glenn had learned about Daryl…

* * *

Daryl

* * *

Daryl practically ran to his place, loaded his backpack with shit he thought he would need and secured it by pulling at the strap, throwing it over his shoulder. He quickly considered taking a crap in his bathroom with the poorly flushing toilet in it before leaving but decided against it. There would be enough time later, because this _thing_ was more important than anything else and he suddenly felt the insurmountable urge to make sure that the camp that Andrea had occupied was still in one piece and safe. Unaffected.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and all his extra bolts, packing them neatly along and shot straight out of the apartment.

He wasn't the type to help people. He didn't know why exactly he was helping the blonde girl, Amy (if he had heard right because _damn_ if the girl's voice hadn't been trembling when she had said that), find the ignorant bastard that was her sister. But he kind of understood. Understood why he felt obliged, why he _wanted_ to. That still didn't explain why he did it.

He walked down the hall and spotted Martinez' buff form leaning against the wall next to the Governor's office door. He eyed the man warily, stopping before him impatiently.

"'ssup with the Gov?" he asked, tried to sound neutral but a hint of reservation escaped to his gruff voice. Martinez looked up from his feet, wearing that wide smile of his.

"Nice to see ya too," the guy spoke clearly. "Saw ya just now, outside, talking to the girl… Ya got yourself a bitch?"

Daryl felt the first traces of anger invade his mind. "Ain't into whores."

"I see… The Governor's got a guest," Martinez began, taking a moment of silence to think while gnawing at his lower lip, "I've seen ya with the Chinese boy lately. Ya swing that way, huh?"

Daryl almost jumped. "Talks the douchebag who got no game at all," he grunted and leaned against the wall opposite to the Hispanic for support. He tried to stay calm despite the racing of his heart at the mention of Glenn and willed his blush to back the hell up. No reason to get mad at a little bit of picking. It was probably the most action he'd get for days in this world.

"Who says I don't," Martinez said calmly, "But if not the Chinese, oh man… the nigger? Cocksucker."

"Seen the way ya look at Philip. Ya _sure_ ya ain't talkin' to yer own sorry ass?" Daryl stated cockily. Martinez stilled at that for a moment, biting down at his own teeth. Then, the man visibly relaxed and so the picking continued.

"Think ya should know living in the room next to mine. Hell, your empty white trash brain registers a needle dropping to the floor when ya should be kipping. Probably can't sleep if there's a pea under the mattress…" Martinez muttered into the silence of the hallway and the last word was so quiet that Daryl barely caught it, "…Pussy."

Daryl saw red. A thick wave of rage and nausea clouded his mind for a minimal moment, but it was enough time for him to jump straight for the asshole basically _begging_ for it. He aimed for the neck, lucky to have forgotten about his crossbow for once because that would have been just nasty. He put force to it, though, pinning Martinez to the building harshly enough to bruise. There was a loud thud as the asshole's head hit the stone wall.

Martinez didn't flinch. He still wore that shit-eating grin on his stupid face and Daryl tried to stare it down. Didn't quite work out, and they ended up staring at each other while simply breathing harshly into each other's spaces.

It was only when the door to the office opened and the darn chink stepped out of it that they both turned their head towards the boy almost stumbling into them.

There was a yelp and loads of flailing from the chink, then a bit more staring as all three of them stilled. Daryl was the first to grow tired of the handicapping, pushed himself off Martinez (and made sure to add pressure doing it) while snapping at Glenn. "The fuck ya want?" he grunted, and got the reaction he wanted: kid backed away a little. Daryl looked at the uncertain face, it looked so old again. He couldn't help but wonder where the cap was.

There was no answer from the chink and Daryl turned his face back to Martinez, satisfied. "We ain't done yet." He still stared for a second before stomping off into the Governor's office, not knocking but slamming the door shut behind him loud enough for the whole town to hear.

The Governor had a knowing grin on his face as he turned in his chair. Daryl scanned the room, noting that Milton was there sitting at the coffee table with Philip, them both sipping at their afternoon tea. Philip motioned for him to sit down with them and Daryl did so with a heavy sigh.

"I don't think you need help with that thing you got going with Martinez," Philip stated calmly, a slight question framed in that sentence. Daryl shrugged and tapped his finger against the table restlessly. "Have you been thinking?"

"'bout what?" Daryl asked, dumbstruck. The Governor gave a laugh and Milton spilled some of his tea onto the white tablecloth. Philip barely noticed.

"You could be my right-hand man. Martinez is not one for that position." Philip took out another cup to pour hot water for Daryl as well. "Wouldn't be too hard on you, of course. Could provide you with better food and furniture. I need help announcing important things to the citizens with me. They'd look up to you. How's that –"

"Didn' come to talk 'bout that," Daryl cut in as he glanced at Milton wiping furiously at the stain on the white fabric with trembling hands. A shaky finger came up to lift the round glasses up his nose. "Gotta go find someone fer this girl in town. Gon' take a couple a' days."

Philip looked him up and down as much as he could with the coffee table between them, sighing, obviously noting his backpack and crossbow at the ready in his hand. He set the tea cup in front of Daryl, full of steaming liquid. "I can't hold you back, can I?"

Daryl grunted in response. His feet were itching to go already and he stood to leave, his tea untouched. "Just think about it!" he heard the Governor holler behind him as he broke into a light jog and exited the room, leaving the door wide open and ignoring Martinez' stupid smirk until he was out of the building.

T-Dog was on watch. Daryl cursed under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the top of the wall, earning a small wave from the nigger. "Where you goin', Daryl?"

"To find someone," he said, keeping it short as he jumped off the wall.

"Wait, man! I'll come with you, I'm dyin' to get outta here for a while, I –"

"'m goin' alone."

"But –"

"I'm fuckin' goin'!" he yelled, half turning around and giving the finger to T-Dog's black and now very confused face.

"Okay, bud, no need to blow up…"

"Ain't yer bud," Daryl muttered quietly to himself because he didn't have the energy to deal with people anymore.

He walked alone into the woods, the knot of his brow easing with every step towards Rick Grimes' camp. Anticipating to fulfill one dream and then, his job would be fucking done here. Done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

Daryl

* * *

His perfect inner state of Zen was broken. He heard running steps a few hours in from when he'd left the false safety of the town and soon after, his name was being hollered breathlessly.

"What d'ya want?" Daryl sighed without even turning around when the chink reached him. The kid flinched beside him, still panting.

"Jeez - what's wrong with you? I was just concerned…" _Yeah, right. _"Why are you coming this way? Towards our camp."

Daryl glanced, once – twice, maybe letting his gaze linger on the Asian's face and figure for a moment. Glenn had kind eyes. Dark. Innocent. Not very fierce. That mouth was set in a serious, firm line. "Got nothin' else to do nowadays," Daryl sighed softly, not really seeing the point of being angry all the time. He looked upwards, tilting his head back and noting that the sky was clear. Thousands of shining stars were littering the firmament. It was going to be a cold night.

Glenn squinted at him. Looked up as well, then back at him. "But it's dark. Aren't you afraid to go out at night?"

Daryl's head twisted down to face Glenn's. He was about to snap at him because _he was Daryl fucking Dixon goddammit _but the kid was staring him deep into the eyes, and all anger inside of him was silenced. Instead, he looked forward and concentrated on taking proper steps and not getting caught on a root and tripping.

"Ya got some intense eyes, ya know that, kid?"

He could tell that the kid's heart skipped a beat at that. There was a pause in Glenn's walking pace, then something unexpected: a literal _scoff_.

"After what I think I heard you just say, hell, after everything you've _seen me do_ you call me a _kid_? Seriously?" Daryl finally turned fully, examining the kid's figure. Arms lean against ribs, thin, exposed wrists…

"Ya should learn not to take half a' the shit I say to heart."

"How do I know what I should take seriously, then?"

Daryl stilled. Confronting like this was beyond him. And… there was this _something_ about this kid that was… Nevermind. "Dunno. Figure it out, maybe?"

That was asking for more than just asking Glenn to figure him out. It was asking someone to give him a chance, and that was something that Daryl had never dared, been able to, had never been brave enough to ask any third party person. And he didn't know where it came from now.

The knot of Glenn's brow still didn't ease and Daryl decided to break the silence by making an awkward and very unnecessary motion towards Grimes' camp. "Come on. Yer camp's close."

Glenn followed him for the rest of the way like a puppy.

* * *

"You don't have to come."

Glenn seemed very determined to go all by himself. He was very brave, Daryl had to give him that.

So Andrea was gone. Maybe in danger, or dead. Daryl had promised the blonde chick in town to bring her sister back. Daryl couldn't push the distant images of his brother being brought to him as a lifeless corpse, or even worse, an aimless, snarling zombie…

He was going.

"Nah. I'm okay."

Daryl turned his head towards Glenn just in time to see Rick Grimes approaching the car. He wore this worried expression on his face, and Daryl couldn't help scoffing. Rick leaned against the Hyundai, poking his head inside through the open window.

"Take this," Grimes said quietly while offering Glenn a revolver. It was a Colt Python. Glenn's eyes widened slightly, Daryl could tell.

"But it's your –"

"I need you to take it. Want you back in one piece. And bring Andrea, too," Rick said tossing a goofy smile and a nod at Daryl. "Both of you."

The gate opened and Daryl started the car.

"There's no going back now," Glenn warned him and he snorted. Daryl Dixon could handle himself.

"I know," he assured and definitely stepped on the gas pedal.

* * *

Atlanta was just as silent as it had been the last time they had gone to the city. It was unnerving. Daryl stared at Glenn's lean backside again, the flex of those muscles under the t-shirt, the sweat damped hair… It was a welcome distraction.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me about Amy first," Glenn complained from a few meters away. He was looking around and upwards restlessly. Daryl squinted.

"What's happened to all the dead people?" He couldn't help asking. Glenn sent a confused stare over his shoulder.

"Dude. Where have you been? It's the apocalypse. There's a reason to why we're still wary." Glenn brushed a few drops of sweat off his forehead. He looked exhausted. "It's like the geeks _get it_. They think, Daryl. We never know when there's going to be a herd of them in front of us."

"So they intentionally march in groups now? Oh, I get it," Daryl scoffed, flexing his trigger finger, aching to shoot something. Glenn rolled his eyes and turned his head back to look ahead.

Glenn looked smart all the time. Alert. Might explain why he had survived all this time with a ragtag group consisting of citizens. Grimes seemed okay, if not a bit out of it. But maybe Glenn relied on him. There seemed to be some kind of invincible bond between the two. Daryl could see how Glenn kept rolling.

"What's yer business with the Governor?"

The kid flinched visibly.

"I deliver information. God, I feel like a freaking errand boy," Glenn muttered under his breath. Daryl lifted an eyebrow curiously.

"And ya ain't one?"

The kid let out a shaky chuckle and seemed to relax a bit from his firm stance. "You never stop, do you?"

"What?" Daryl asked, smirking, maybe detecting a hint of amusement in his own voice.

"Don't think of me as useless, Daryl. You seem to stick your nose in my business and I guess there's no getting rid of you, but despite everything I still expect a _tiny_ little bit of respect from you." Glenn's movement went more cautious again. "Is that too much asked?"

"No, Zipperhead. Not at all," Daryl whispered. He really couldn't remember what it felt like to even have a very brief, light small talk with someone.

"Come on. Let's find Andrea," Glenn reminded in a serious tone.

They crouched under a few broken fences and climbed the intact ones. Glenn was careful in the quiet of the city, always making sure Daryl followed close behind. Daryl followed Glenn up a dangerous looking fire escape, keeping his eyes strictly upwards.

"What kinda info does the Governor need from ya?"

"About some kind of military group, I guess? I think it has something to do with the research that the Governor's doing. Research for the cure." Glenn let out a few grunts and Daryl wondered _what the hell he was doing_ until he noticed that Glenn's legs were hanging and kicking above his head. Realization hit him: two steps were missing from the ladder. "I don't know if you know about anything, I don't even know if I should be telling you this, but the Governor says the soldiers might fuck it all up."

"Really," Daryl growled as he stared way up at the step that was hard to reach. Glenn's ass waved further away from him every second. He spared a quick glance down and breathed in deep. The landing would be pretty bad if he fell. He'd probably just die and reanimate soon after… wouldn't that be too easy. He gathered all his courage and reached for the next step of the ladder. It almost felt like he couldn't even get a decent grip, but somehow, he managed to pull himself up the ladder and keep going. There had to be a God watching out for him out there after all.

"You okay down there?" came the amused question from above. Daryl glanced up. Glenn was already over the edge of the wall and staring at him, smiling devilishly.

"Yeah," Daryl hollered, his voice steady, but as he looked at one of his hands, he noted that it was shaking slightly. That was something that made him feel bouncy inside. "What do ya get for doin' all that shit to him?"

"I get a ticket to your party for me and my people," Glenn stated firmly, as if he was desperately hoping that indeed was the case.

"Hope it turns out all good fer ya," Daryl said and climbed over the edge as well.

The rooftop was high. Daryl still felt a bit dizzy when Glenn headed towards the other side of the roof, taking light jogging steps all the way.

"We've said to meet here in case we get separated in the city. It's safe here," Glenn explained as Daryl caught up with him and faced the empty buildings and streets below.

"Safe my ass…"

"Look. We can see the entire city from here." The kid turned to lean his back against the concrete edge of the roof. "It's beautiful. The sunset."

"I don't like cities that much," Daryl confessed with a final glance over the rooftop and settling for sitting down with Glenn. "Grew up in the woods. Learned to love my own space."

"Why?"

"Pa lived in the countryside. Back when he was still sane, he used to take me and my brother huntin'. Good ol' times. Moved even deeper into the woods when things took a wrong turn. Uncle Jess took good care of us." Daryl turned his face to study Glenn's understanding smile and felt disgusted at himself because he never had to tell. The chink shook his head and sighed.

"I was always the shame of my family. Didn't do well at school," Glenn mumbled quietly to break the silence between them. Daryl's ears perked up at the even tone of the kid's voice. "I was good at stealing cars, though. Not that it ever mattered. I worked my ass off here, in this city. Delivered pizzas. I guess I learned to love that lifestyle. I know this place by heart."

Daryl only nodded because he didn't know what to say. It felt like this topic was too heavy for them to discuss. Glenn smiled at the floor of the roof, though.

"So we just wait now?"

"Yeah. We wait."

The sun went lower every minute they sat. Daryl listened to Glenn's even breathing. Every now and then, there was an occasional snarl of a walker coming from below the building. No sign of any trouble, though.

"Even Rick thinks –"

There was the loud noise of a gun firing once, cutting the kid's sentence roughly off. Glenn jumped on his ass and quickly looked at Daryl with horror in his eyes.

"Andrea?" the chink asked breathlessly.

"Or someone else. That sounded like a rifle," Daryl managed out and they both shot up from the ground like bullets. "We gotta go. Need to save that bitch right now." Daryl was already halfway to the fire escape when Glenn piped up almost angrily.

"No! There's a fucking sniper in the window. Look." Daryl squinted to the direction of the gunshot, and there really was a sniper doing his job there. There were more gunshots, and then Daryl saw them. The walkers. A really huge pack of them about a mile away. "We can't just run in there, we'll get killed."

"You're right. What's yer plan?"

Glenn seemed to think, hopefully fast, and in ten seconds flat he had come up with a plan that he didn't have time to explain to Daryl. "Just trust me."

* * *

Glenn went through a couple of buildings in a hasty state of mind, eager to find Andrea in one piece. The sniper wouldn't see them, Daryl thought. Kid was good. Really good.

All of the positive thoughts Daryl had just a minute ago vanished when they neared a small gas station and the open space surrounding it. There was a horde of over a hundred already and at least another fifty was coming closer from the western streets, probably having heard the gunshots. Were that sniper and his friends planning on getting rid of all their heads? Fucking waste of ammo.

"Haven't seen this huge of a crowd of zombies in a while," he mumbled and Glenn nodded.

"All this ruckus must have triggered this," the kid explained.

They kneeled down to hide behind the fallen fascia of the gas station and watched the scene in front of them. That sniper was good. Walkers fell down and there were bullets coming from another direction as well.

"We have to get inside before those other people do. Andrea could be in danger," Glenn whispered. Daryl looked at Glenn's shaking hands against the fascia and realized the boy needed support.

"We gotta get to the other side. Ain't no way we can enter through walkers."

Glenn looked at him seriously and nodded.

Daryl took the lead to crouch under the hoods of buildings, keeping his eyes on the sniper at all times. As long as nobody saw them, they'd be okay. Hopefully.

Daryl thought of Glenn's innocent head bashed in or shot at. It was wrong. No kind or pure person should be forced to live in this world.

No one like Amy. And Daryl wouldn't allow Andrea to die and not go to her sister. That wasn't the way things should end up.

"I'm going to run for it," Glenn breathed out next to him, and before Daryl could even notice, the kid was running and topping himself at the same time.

Bullets flew franticly right past Daryl as he made himself run after Glenn. He stared only at that bouncing backpack and flailing hands, instead of trying to dodge every single life taking thing. "Get 'em!" someone shouted from a distance and Daryl ran faster. Walkers were behind him. He sprinted, bent over and made a painful downhill onto the floor of the gas station through the held open door.

"We made it!" Glenn smiled victoriously as Daryl rolled over to his back and breathed. The gunfire continued outside.

"We got one hell of a problem now. Let's find that bitch and get the fuck outta here," Daryl grunted when he finally managed to catch his breath. His old bones ached as he stood, shouldering his unharmed crossbow. Glenn was looking out of the window cautiously. Daryl made to scavenge the few rooms in search of a blonde chick and painkillers. His shoulder hurt, bad.

There were no people nor were there painkillers in the gas station. He did find a tiny Minigrip bag of pot, though. Daryl sighed in frustration. His shit went too much south nowadays.

"There's no one in here," Daryl announced to Glenn who was still peering out of the window. "Let's go 'fore those assholes get in here."

"Impossible," Glenn warned him in a worried tone. "Both exits are swarming with walkers."

"Shit," Daryl cursed, pressing a palm to his temple. "We could wait it out 'til they've cleared _one_ of the exits?"

The kid turned to look at him, shaking his head miserably. "Maybe, but we need a shitload of luck. The sniper…"

"Great."

* * *

The shooting stopped. Daryl flinched to action. He checked the front door exit. No luck. Six men were walking towards the gas station.

"What d'ya see?"

"The sniper stays in place. We could try to run–"

"No," Daryl said firmly, glaring at the guys getting closer to the front. He tried to gather his thoughts, tried to come up with an idea that could save their lives –

No such ideas came to mind. Glenn's posture remained calm, but as Daryl looked over his shoulder, he could see Glenn's brow curl into a worried frown.

"We're gonna get through this," Daryl murmured quietly now that the guys outside were so close. He eyed the room demandingly. "We could kill 'em, China."

The kid's head snapped to him. "I can't."

There was a five seconds long staring contest that Glenn won way too easily. Daryl put his fingers to his eyes, adding pressure. "Fuck ya."

"We have to run, Daryl," Glenn whispered, begging.

"Shut up, 'm tryna think." Right. The closet with the bag of pot. "Come on," Daryl loped to Glenn, yanked him by the elbow and led them to the tiny room in the back. They'd have the advantage to surprise the guys.

"Wait –"

Daryl shoved Glenn roughly into the closet with all kinds of shit littering the floor and cupboards against the walls. He entered the closet right after, closing the door strictly behind.

It was a tight fit for two. Daryl breathed into the darkness. "Get yer machete ready."

Glenn's uneven inhales echoed in the closet. The kid smelled of nervous. Daryl moved a hand to the kid's arm to calm him down. In his other hand, he held his crossbow ready for action.

"They're going to find us," Glenn whimpered. Daryl could feel his hot breath on his collarbone. He bit his lower lip and tasted blood.

"_They're still here. Check every corner,"_ came a low voice from the main hall of the gas station. Daryl squeezed Glenn's arm harder. He listened to the guys' careful steps coming from outside the closet. They'd find them. They'd find them, and Daryl would fail his task, Glenn would be dead, lifeless on the ground…

A shadow appeared to darken the pitiful amount of light coming from below the door. Daryl stared down at the floor, all of his muscles tense, anticipating the door to open…

Glenn suddenly startled against him and the sound of a trigger being pulled echoed in the air.


End file.
